


put your lips together and blow

by Snickfic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, First Time, M/M, Shame/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight Geno finally gets to see the bugle in Sidney's pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put your lips together and blow

**Author's Note:**

> Not a typo.

Tonight, Evgeni thought. Tonight he was going to get lucky with Sidney, if it counted as luck when they’d been sneaking kisses in the equipment room for three months and he hadn’t yet set eyes or hands on Sidney’s dick. But over dinner Sidney had been giving him eyes that promised more than just make-out sessions, and now here he was leading Evgeni by the hand down the hotel corridor. He seemed reluctant to let go even long enough to get his key card out of his pocket, and as soon as the door clicked open he tugged Evgeni inside. 

For a moment he just grinned up at Evgeni, cheeks flushed and eyes wine-bright, and then he pulled him down and kissed him like there was a limited Evgeni supply and Sidney worried it might run out. When they came up for air, Sidney stepped back, licked his kiss-reddened lips, and said, “Hey, so, you wanna..?”

“Yes.” Evgeni wasn’t sure precisely what was on offer, and he didn’t care. He had been very, very patient.

For the first time this evening, uncertainty leaked into Sidney’s eyes. “Are you sure?”

Three. Months. “Very sure.”

“Right. Okay.” Sidney steeled himself, the confident, eager Sidney from moments ago suddenly gone. Evgeni was sorry to see him go. That Sidney seemed so comfortable, had clearly been enjoying himself, and this Sidney just as clearly wasn’t.

Deep breaths, Evgeni. “Don’t have to, if you not want. Can wait.”

“No, I want to.”

“Don’t look like you want.”

“No, I just have to get it over with, you know?”

Evgeni was growing more alarmed by the minute. “Not going to _make_ you. Don’t have to.” He pulled Sidney into a hug just so he could stop seeing his anxious, unhappy face.

After a moment, Sidney wriggled out of his hold, and Evgeni let go. “No, I want to, I mean. With you. I just—you’re going to be weirded out.”

Evgeni couldn’t help but smile, he was so relieved. “You get weird in bed?”

“I mean, yeah.” 

“I like you anyway,” Evgeni promised.

Sidney’s eyes got big, like Evgeni had said something important instead of what he’d have thought was blatantly obvious. “Okay,” Sidney said. “Okay.” He took a couple of steps backward and started to unbuckle his pants. Evgeni would like to have helped, but he was afraid to disturb the fragile forward momentum they had going on here, so he just sat back on the bed and watched with frank admiration. 

Sidney stepped out of his jeans and began to unbutton his shirt. Evgeni thought he could be forgiven for not paying too much attention to the unbuttoning; his gaze was fixed on that convexity in Sidney’s boxers. Swim trunks in the shower were one of Sidney’s rules, and the fact that he was endlessly chirped for it had never budged him an inch. This would be Evgeni’s first glimpse. Suffice to say that Evgeni was a bit preoccupied, imagining the possibilities in shape and heft and length and curve.

“So?” Sidney said, shaking Evgeni out of his speculative daze. Sidney was standing there in black boxers and white ribbed socks, his fingers curled loosely into fists. 

Evgeni felt a little drunk at the sight of him. Even Russian failed him, much less English. Instead he got up and took Sidney’s face in his hands, and he kissed him as appreciatively as he knew how. He angled his thigh against Sidney’s to let Sidney feel his hard-on. Sidney took a sharp breath, and Evgeni grinned against his mouth. “Now?” he said, letting his hand drift south.

Sidney breathed a long, slow exhale against Evgeni’s mouth, and then he nodded and backed them up until his calves hit the bed. He sat down and on the edge and let his legs fall open, and there between them was the destination of so many of Evgeni’s flights of fancy, under just a couple layers of cloth. Evgeni knelt on the carpet. Evgeni laid his hand on Sidney’s thigh and thumbed at the bulge.

Sidney shivered, but Evgeni barely noticed; Sidney was already so _hard_. Not in the almost-there way, but in the bad porn way, rock hard, like how the pirate kings always were right before they ravished the pretty ladies with torn clothes. Evgeni knew all about them; the romance novels Ksenia Gonchar used to lend him were full of them. 

He tried again, tracing his thumb down Sidney’s length, and Sidney took a sharp little inhale that was very encouraging, but meanwhile under Evgeni’s touch he didn’t give at all. Evgeni could have been massaging a sink faucet.

“Keep doing that? Please?” Sidney’s voice gone a little high.

Far be it from Evgeni to deny him. He stroked Sidney again, and again he stopped; this time his thumb ran over the top of what felt like a ridge, and _what the fuck did Sidney have under there?_

“Geno?” Sidney looked down at Evgeni. Evgeni looked stupidly back. Sidney added, “You stopped.”

“Want to see you,” Evgeni said, almost smoothly.

Sidney flushed, but he nodded. Evgeni slid the tips of his fingers under the waist of Sidney’s boxers and tugged invitingly. Sidney braced his arms on the bed and lifted his hips far enough for Evgeni to inch his boxers down. First he saw wiry dark curls of hair. More hair as Evgeni continued to pull. Soon, now. Any time. For an instant, the waist of Sidney’s boxers hung onto that impossible hardness, and then they were off with a final tug.

There was a long pause.

“Geno?” Sidney’s voice wavered uncertainly.

Evgeni slowly reached a finger out to touch, as if it would bite. Maybe it would, who knew? Not him. He was a simple Russian boy, and there was nothing like this in Russia. Someone would have told him.

“Geno?” The word pitched higher, up into the panic range.

It was very shiny. It gleamed, like brass. There was a mouthpiece hanging down, and the mouthpiece narrowed up into a tube, and the tube curved around, doing a full three-sixty and then some before opening up like a bell and facing directly forward. The edges of the bell pressed into Sidney’s skin. Ever so cautiously, Evgeni pushed a finger into the flesh of Sidney’s thigh, and as the flesh gave way he could see the indentation the edge of the bell made. The indentation was red. He pushed at it, and Sidney flinched.

Evgeni looked up and met Sidney’s wide, anxious eyes. Evgeni didn’t feel a lot better himself. “It—” Evgeni stopped. Hockey English had not prepared him for this. He wracked his brain, and finally he said, “It... horn?”

“Bugle,” Sidney said, nodding vigorously.

Again, words failed Evgeni. “How?”

Sidney was the reddest Evgeni had ever seen him. “I don’t know? I’ve always been like this.” 

“It attached?” Evgeni pinched the bell with his fingers and gently tugged.

“Ow!”

Okay, yes, attached. “You have horn in your pants.” How had Evgeni missed this? Oh. “That why swim in shower.”

“Yeah.”

“You have horn in pants,” Evgeni repeated. It seemed to bear repeating.

Sidney snapped his legs shut. Evgeni barely had time to sit back to keep from getting kneed in the face. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do anything. I shouldn’t have—I should have warned you. Before.” Sidney’s entire chest was blotchily red, and his neck, and his ears.

“You always have horn,” Evgeni said. He still wasn’t quite processing, here.

“Yeah.”

“When you little, it little?”

Sidney’s mouth twisted. “It’s not that big _now_.”

Evgeni supposed it wasn’t. The mouthpiece was barely bigger around than his thumb. “How you piss?”

“How do you think?” Sidney’s knees squeezed tighter together, and Evgeni winced, thinking of those harsh red lines pressed into Sidney’s skin. “Look, I know we’re not going to do anything, so can we stop talking about my junk?”

His voice was tight and unhappy, and his mouth was a thin unhappy line, and Evgeni was simply not prepared to face that much Sidney unhappiness. “What you want me do?” 

“What?”

Evgeni waved a hand at Sidney’s knees. “What you want?”

Sidney gaped at him for a while. “Seriously?”

Evgeni slid his hand across Sidney’s knee. “You tell me what you like.”

“I mean, I dunno. I never got this far before.”

Evgeni had to let that rattle around in his brain a bit. “Before, you never? You _never_?”

“What do you think, genius? That I’m going to just pick a guy up at a bar and, and show him?” 

No, Evgeni could see how that could go poorly. 

“You’re the second time I’ve ever even tried!”

“Second?” Evgeni said blankly.

“Jack was first,” Sidney said, hunching into himself. “At school. We jerked off together sometimes – you know, after lights out – and then one night Jack wanted to try jerking _me_ off, and you can guess how that went.”

There was—that was too much sadness for Evgeni to deal with. “But you like jerk off.”

“Well, _yeah_.” Sidney looked at Evgeni like he was stupid, which didn’t seem quite fair.

“So I jerk off.” Evgeni tried to wedge his fingers between Sidney’s thighs. When Sidney’s legs remained closed, Evgeni said, “Hard to do this way.”

Sidney exhaled noisily, shakily, and swung his legs slowly open. And there it was, a bugle, just as shiny as before. Evgeni circled his thumb and forefinger around it just behind the mouthpiece. The surface was warm, - Sidney-temperature, he supposed – and ungiving. He squeezed his fingers together and ran them up the tubing, and Sidney gasped. 

Evgeni did it again. His fingers squeaked across the surface.

He kept on doing that. Sidney’s breathes came in tight little puffs, and his hands fisted atop the bedspread. He was really pretty sensitive, considering he was... made of metal. Probably. Evgeni got a really bright idea, then. He leaned down and licked the mouthpiece.

“Fuck,” Sidney breathed.

Evgeni grinned, and then he forced the grin away so he could press his lips to the mouthpiece, like a kiss. Sidney shuddered, whole-body. Evgeni worked his lips at the opening, wishing suddenly he’d taken Kolya’s offer, years ago, of playing around on the trumpet Kolya’s parents had been making him learn. Instead Evgeni just licked around and around the edge, enjoying the smooth solid heat of it and the gasps Sidney was making above him. Something began to dribble onto his tongue, hot and bitter, which answered a question he hadn’t gotten around to raising yet.

“Wait, Geno.” Sidney’s hand landed in Evgeni’s hair. “I’m going to, um—”

Evgeni pulled back and squinted at him. “You not want?”

“I mean.” Sidney grimaced down at Evgeni, looking weirdly conflicted. “Yes?”

Good enough. Evgeni leaned forward again and reapplied himself, getting messy with it, spit all around the mouthpiece, inside and out, while he reached up and began stroking the curving tube with a finger.

Then everything about Sidney tensed, all at once, and suddenly right in Evgeni’s face there blew a sharp, loud, mournful sound, like a deflating cow. He startled backwards onto his heels, which meant that the rush of Sidney’s come splashed hot and wet from the mouthpiece and down the front of Evgeni’s shirt.

“Um,” Sidney said, chest still heaving. 

Evgeni peered down at his shirt. It was one of his favorites, nice enough to take Sidney to dinner in. He looked back up at Sidney. “You noisy at sex.”

“Sorry?” Sidney said. He was red again. “I should have said.”

Evgeni got creakily to his feet – his knees would not be pleased with him tomorrow – and stripped his shirt off. “Yes. But I know for next time.” 

“Next time?” Sidney asked, voice squeaky with shock.

Evgeni balled the shirt and tossed it in the garbage can by the desk. He turned and sprawled behind Sidney across the bed. “Next time,” he agreed.

“Oh,” Sidney said. He twisted to look at Evgeni, and then he scrambled onto the bed and onto Evgeni, straddling him. He bent down and kissed him, long and thorough. When Sidney finally shoved up on his hands, face hovering above Evgeni’s, his eyes seemed brighter than lust alone could account for.

“You see,” Evgeni told him. “I learn to play all the Sid songs.”

Sidney made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, but his lopsided grin betrayed him. He rolled off of Evgeni and settled in next to him, crossways across the bed with both their feet hanging off the edge. His fingers tangle with Evgeni's. “And you can teach me how to play the Geno songs? I haven’t—I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“We make lots music together,” Evgeni promised.

Sidney hmmed, wriggling a little closer. After a moment, he began to whistle.

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the two unfortunates in the same week whom I found talking about the bugles in people's pants - I suspect it was a typo, but who knows? - and to my writing buddy, who enabled. (Mostly by demanding, "MOAR.")


End file.
